Summary

“Oh god man. Shut up. We’ll save your goddamn butt buddy but I swear to god I better not hear a single damn thing about your ass and that metal arm after, you hear? Or I'm fucking out. Like that. Light switch man. I will find the goddamn door.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder, shaking once for emphasis. “I knew you'd understand.”

He didn’t miss the miserable eye roll up to the sky, but he couldn’t be sure what Sam muttered under his breath, although it did sound suspiciously like you flirt with a guy once and suddenly you’re helping him back to his betrothed and. Well.

Summary

Clint's not sure if it's the hangover or the lack of food that's making him feel sick. It could just be the mania, and wouldn't that be typical. Wouldn't that be just what he needs right now.

He's been up for three days, hasn't sobered up for two of them and hasn't eaten for four total. Last night the neighbours complained because he was up drinking beer and singing along to AC/DC in the early hours of the morning. He's got a bruise on his cheekbone from where he tripped over the coffee table on his way to find more booze.

He's starting to understand how Bruce feels when he talks about the Other Guy. Manic Clint is a whole different entity to levelled-out Clint.

He's not sure how Manic Clint is going to do on-mission, but he'll find out sooner than he wants to.

Summary

When Yuri Plisetsky needs somewhere to stay while 'figuring stuff out' after loosing the Grand Prix, Victor and Yuuri are more than happy to offer him a place in Hasetsu. But trying to get back on his feet while Hasetsu is in chaos may not be so easy after all.

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Summary

"No, see, we've all been trained a certain way. The training system is traditional; it's centuries old. Nobody taught you. You ballist like it's got nothing to do with war at all." A sleepy, extraordinary smile crawls over Victor's face. "Nobody else does it like that. That's why we're going to win."